


This Blessed Hope

by Mockingbirdblues



Series: Fjorclay Week 2020 [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caduceus doesn't know what to do with his Feelings, Fjorclay Week 2020, M/M, Pre-Relationship, author takes advantage of opportunity to use mushroom facts, the lightest pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mockingbirdblues/pseuds/Mockingbirdblues
Summary: Caduceus is hyperaware of the dirt under his nails and the wild onion smudged on his palm and the bite of cold air wafting off the stream as the earth slowly turns over. Fjord is in the middle of it all, sharper than the rest for how familiar he is, steady like the tide, bright like moonlight off a quiet sea.He fits in, somehow, in a way the others don’t. It feels right to hear him. Caduceus can focus on him and the rest quiets just a little, just enough that he doesn’t fear it’s going to bury him. That’s new, and nice, and something he doesn’t quite know how to hold.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Series: Fjorclay Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715842
Comments: 3
Kudos: 58





	This Blessed Hope

People don’t know what to do with Caduceus. He gets it. He’s tall and pink; between the beetles and the tea and the lichen there’s a lot to turn people off. It’s fine. He knows how to be self-sufficient. He’s perfected loneliness so it doesn’t sting anymore. He’s happy to have a place with the Mighty Nein. He likes being there when they need him, be it for healing or a meal or a quiet conversation where the others can’t hear. He’s grateful when they bring him back even after he fails. He will understand if, someday, they don’t. 

The world is a little different for Caduceus. He gets that now, after being out in it and seeing so many people move through it without noticing the things he notices. His awareness is split between the people and things happening in the forefront, where everyone else lives, and everything happening in the background—the constant slow burrowing of roots, the laughing of thickets as they’re tickled by rabbits and sparrows, the whisper of every stream they pass, which promises the most marvelous stories if Caduceus will just surrender the hours to listen to them. 

It was easier in his forest where he knew them all. He could let them fade to a pleasant but unobtrusive hum while he went about his work. Now, here, wherever here is on a given day, it’s all so new. It’s not bad. He loves hearing the fields of wildflowers and the groves of trees whose lives will be even longer than his if all goes well. He doesn’t think he could bear the silence if they left him, but it clamors. The aliveness of everything around him can be overwhelming and sometimes he’s lost to the noise of it even when he tries not to be. 

Fjord nudges Caduceus’ arm with his foot, not unkindly, but enough to break him out of the chatter of daffodils that are just coming into bloom and excited to see the sun. 

“Hm?” Caduceus shifts the brim of his hat so he can see Fjord atop the bay mare he’s taken a liking to. The group had named her something unfortunate. Caduceus had been sure to ask her proper name so he could address her as such. He may have also asked her to be extra careful with her rider, but that could stay between him and the mare. 

Fjord gestures to the road ahead, where the rest of the party has drifted into the woods to find a campsite. Jester is looking at Caduceus expectantly. 

“Ah. Sorry. Repeat that?” 

“I asked if you wanted to cook tonight?’” 

“Oh. Yes. Sure.” Caduceus glances around. There are deeper woods to their right and he can hear rushing water not too far off, he should have no problem scavenging for some additions to the staples they have. 

“I can help,” Fjord says as he dismounts. The mare immediately turns her head to nose Fjord’s pockets for treats. He rubs her forehead apologetically. “Sorry bud. I’ll remember next time we hit town.” 

The mare sighs. 

➳➳➳

“So uh, what are we looking for?” Fjord asks when Caduceus stops near the river. 

“Arrowhead in the water if you can find it. It’s…” Caduceus makes a shape with his hands to show Fjord what the leaves look like. Fjord nods. He pulls off his boots and rolls up his pant legs before wading into the shallows. The dusk is ruddy around them, murky like kicked-up river bottom. The absence of both sunlight and moonlight creates a darkness in limbo. A frog leaps out of Fjord’s path, plunking into the water. 

Caduceus turns his attention to the mushrooms growing among the roots of a tree. He trails his fingers down the bark first, greeting the tree, assuring it that he and Fjord don’t mean any harm and thanking it for the use of the mushrooms. The forest closes in around him, a million lives all calling to him. If they’re speaking words he can’t understand them, but he feels the intention behind their voices. 

Some time passes (Caduceus can’t even begin to keep track of how much) and Caduceus eventually looks over his shoulder to check on Fjord. 

Fjord is bent among the rushes, gently parting them to get at the edible plants. The melody of him winds between the peeping frogs and the parting calls of songbirds as they relinquish control of the forest to the owls. Caduceus is hyperaware of the dirt under his nails and the wild onion smudged on his palm and the bite of cold air wafting off the stream as the earth slowly turns over from day to night. Fjord is in the middle of it all, sharper than the rest for how familiar he is, steady like the tide, bright like moonlight off a quiet sea.

He fits in, somehow, in a way the others don’t. It feels right to hear him. Caduceus can focus on him and the rest quiets just a little, just enough that he doesn’t fear it’s going to bury him. That’s new, and nice, and something he doesn’t quite know how to hold. 

“Is this good?” Fjord asks as he splashes out of the water and holds his spoils aloft. 

Caduceus nods. He pulls himself from the tiny roots that had claimed him while he sorted through their fellows. Fjord retrieves his boots but doesn’t bother putting them on. He peers at the mushrooms Caduceus gathered in the makeshift basket of his tunic. 

“Those are all...normal mushrooms, right?” 

Caduceus balks at the impossible task of deciding what “normal” could possibly mean to an organism capable of spanning miles and devouring even the largest trees if allowed enough time. 

“I mean-uh, never mind,” Fjord says, realizing his mistake. “I trust you. Ready to go?” 

They fall into step for the walk back to camp. Fjord tells Caduceus about Mollymauk and Beau’s experience with not-normal mushrooms. Caduceus can’t really concentrate on the words but he likes the warmth of Fjord’s voice. The thought crosses his mind that he'd like it if someday Fjord can tell stories about him with the same fondness, which is a distracting enough sentiment that it makes Caduceus stumble over a root. Fjord catches him before he hits the ground, then they both crouch to gather the scattered mushrooms. 

“Thank you,” Caduceus says, peeling himself away from the ferns that rose to meet him when he knelt. 

“Any time,” Fjord replies with a smile and a kind hand to help Caduceus up. Caduceus hopes—more than he hopes for most things—that Fjord means it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fjorclay week Day 6: Nature 
> 
> I just have a lot of feelings about Firbolgs and nature and Caduceus finding his footing in the group. 
> 
> Blackthorn for fate, protection, and hope.
> 
> Endless thanks for the comments/kudos on these 3!! Y'all are lovely.


End file.
